


gonna make somebody love me

by liveonthesun



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveonthesun/pseuds/liveonthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the day, he and Charles had finished their evening jog and were rehashing the day's events on the balcony together when Charles mentioned something about a rather old bottle of scotch his father had kept hidden and how he wondered if it was still there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna make somebody love me

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this a couple of months ago. The ever-lovely [fwf](http://fireworkfiasco.livejournal.com) beta'd it for me, and then life got real and it just sat in my gdocs for a while. Finally, the other night I printed it out and took it to a coffee shop to rework. This reworked version hasn't been beta'd, so feel free to leave notes.
> 
> The original was inspired by [this text from xavier academy post](http://textsfromxavieracademy.tumblr.com/post/7713704115). The final version doesn't hold to it, but that post is still the reason it exists. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

This isn't really what Erik had in mind for tonight.

It had been a long day. Almost like knocking over dominoes, one after the other, the kids had all had spells of doubt, coming to Charles and Erik needing explanation after explanation for their mutations, wanting to know what they were doing here, if they wouldn't be better off back home. And as much as Erik understood what they were going through and was glad to help, it was hard because he didn't have all the answers for himself. He still wasn't sure what he was doing here, still didn't understand why he'd been blessed with this..."gift" (a term he often used mockingly) that had brought almost nothing but pain into his life.

But he had tucked away his confusion, had smiled and gotten through, trying to be as encouraging as he could.

Charles, though, had handled it all wonderfully. He never failed to amaze Erik with how he always seemed to know exactly what a person needed to hear. When he talked about mutations in any sense, he made them sound so fantastic that Erik can't help but be excited to have one himself. For this reason (and so many more, he's sure), he's been finding himself more and more drawn to Charles -- wanting to spend more time with him, to learn his quirks and habits, to for once have someone in his life he could trust.

At the end of the day, he and Charles had finished their evening jog and were rehashing the day's events on the balcony together when Charles mentioned something about a rather old bottle of scotch his father had kept hidden and how he wondered if it was still there.

Erik didn't know what had made this memory suddenly surface in Charles's mind, nor did he particularly care. Without so much as a gesture or _Come on, then,_ Charles had turned on his heel and began walking in the other direction.

And Erik followed. He wasn't sure what this was all about, but it was Charles, and Erik would follow Charles anywhere.

Charles hadn't found his father's old hidden scotch ( _Mother must have known about it, too_ ), but still had a good quality bottle on hand. So they'd settled down for chess with glasses in their hands.

Fast forward to now. The bottle of scotch is not nearly as full as it started out being, and the game of chess is abandoned. The more drunk they'd become, the more they'd started cheating, until they both caught each other and decided to just give up. At some point, Charles decided he was too warm and removed his shirt. Erik is laid out on the couch with one arm hanging off the edge and Charles is sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning back and lazily tracing patterns in the carpet with his index finger. Erik can feel Charles's hair brushing against his rib cage through the fabric of his turtleneck.

"The thing of it is," Charles says, voice slow and slurring, "some of it still doesn't make much sense. Not the mutating, but the mutations themselves. Well, not all of them. I mean, Darwin. Darwin! Now he has a magnificent mutation. He's pretty much the poster boy for why mutations even exist! But there are some that I really cannot wrap my head around. Like Banshee." Charles pauses, takes a deep breath. Erik rolls over onto his side. "As passionate as I am about genetics and mutations, there are some times I can't help but think that it is just some cosmic joke."

At any other time, Erik thinks fondly, he would love to hear this -- the arrogant Charles Xavier admitting his doubts and misgivings. But right now he is too drunk and Charles is too close for him to care about anything other than the man's skin and how bare and warm and _close_ it is.

"Charles," he says, "you are drunk. You are drunk, Charles, and you're babbling on about serious things as if you were sober. You can barely form whole words, and yet you're stringing together complete sentences." Erik reaches down, his body taking charge over his mind, and begins to run his hand through Charles's hair. "Just turn off that brain of yours for five seconds, will you?"

"I..." Charles starts, but Erik moves his hand to the back of Charles's head, and whatever he was going to say gets lost and simply becomes, "shut up."

Erik chuckles. Charles leans his head back into Erik's hand and lets out a small moan. Erik's body is warm with alcohol, and Charles's skin and hair against his hand is even warmer. He can almost feel electricity shooting up his fingers. He loves Charles like this, loose and sprawled, eyes closed, his head tilted as far back as it will go. _This is how Charles should always look,_ he thinks, and begins to move his fingers in circles on Charles's scalp, occasionally tugging lightly at his hair. Charles makes no attempt to hide just how much he is enjoying it -- moving his head to guide Erik's hand; small, satisfied sighs escaping his lips. Erik becomes fixated on those lips, red from alcohol and how Charles always seems to be chewing at them, and the things they are capable of doing, and realizes he's beginning to get hard.

He drops his hand down to Charles's shoulder, fingers lightly brushing against his cheek, and when his hand comes to rest, his thumb is pressed just at the corner of Charles's mouth ( _such a beautiful mouth._ )

And of course, Charles heard that, Erik realizes, feeling his stomach drop, because almost immediately his eyes open, looking directly into Erik's. He raises one eyebrow. "It is rather lovely, isn't it?" he asks, and Erik can feel his voice vibrating against his thumb, and when Charles finishes speaking, he doesn't quite close his mouth all the way back.

Charles's tongue, hot and rough, touches the tip of his thumb. He turns his head, sucking Erik's thumb into his mouth, and runs his tongue slowly up, down, and around it, his eyes never once breaking away from Erik's.

Erik slowly pulls his thumb out of Charles's mouth and brings it to his own, tasting the evening's scotch once again on his own skin, as well as something else that must only be Charles.

And then Charles licks his lips, and that's really all Erik can take.

He returns his hand to the back of Charles's head and he brings his own head down, pressing their mouths together, kissing him slowly and carelessly with an alcoholic lust. Charles turns so that he's now kneeling by the couch. Erik's hand rests on Charles's back, feels his muscles move under his skin, and he can tell Charles is putting his whole body into this kiss.

Erik brings his hand back up and as he knots it in Charles's hair, he feels the heat of Charles's hand as it slips under his shirt. Erik imagines that hand going lower and suddenly Charles pulls away, grinning. "So that's where we're going with this, is it?" he asks, mouth moving against Erik's ear, causing that whole side of his face and neck to prickle wonderfully.

Charles raises himself to the couch, positioning himself between Erik's legs. His other hand is now under Erik's shirt as well, and the shirt is soon gone. Charles leans back down to kiss Erik again, their bodies flush against each other, and Erik can feel Charles hard against his hip. He reaches a hand down between them, and Charles lifts himself slightly to make room. All Erik knows right now is that he needs to see Charles come undone: he needs to feel Charles's breath quicken, needs to see his eyes flutter, needs to feel his body shake against his own. Charles moans into his mouth in agreement.

He undoes Charles's pants, doesn't bother with pushing them very far down, and pulls his cock out. He holds Charles firmly in his hand, and almost as soon as he beings stroking, Charles's body becomes heavier against his own. He never imagined he'd be doing this -- not with Charles, not like this. They'd all been dreams he kept tucked away, hidden in his mind where hopefully Charles would never find them. He wonders now if Charles had, if he'd known all along and orchestrated this night for them, knowing drunk would be the only way to get Erik to act on these dream.

And Erik is thrilled, so wonderfully thrilled, with how Charles's mouth is now pressed against his collar bone, his skin dampening with every hot breath that comes past the man's lips.

Charles's hips are now moving in rhythm with Erik's hand, pressing against Erik's cock as they move. As he gets closer, Charles bites Erik's skin, and Erik loves that there will probably be a mark there the next day. "Erik?" Charles pants, as he reaches for Erik's free hand, twining their fingers and squeezing it _hard_. The intimacy of the gestures surprises Erik, but in a wonderful way, and so he squeezes back, running his thumb over Charles's knuckles.

"Yes?" he answers.

"God, Erik..." and the sentence is left hanging as Charles comes, body slowly relaxing against Erik.

Erik takes a second to reach for the side table behind him, groping for a napkin with his clean hand, tossing it in the small trash can under the table, making a mental note to empty the can before anyone else has the chance to.

His cock is now throbbing, and the pressure of Charles on top of him is only teasing him further. Thankfully, it's not long before Charles is moving again, kissing and licking his way down Erik's chest, over his stomach. He spends an almost painful amount of time on the line where his abdomen and pelvis meet, doesn't go further until Erik pushes his hips up and a begging moan drags from his throat.

Charles looks up at him, draws one corner of his mouth into a smile, and undoes Erik's pants, pushing them down just enough to be out of the way. Not breaking eye contact, Charles takes Erik in his hand and licks his lips, tongue just barely pressing out. Erik puts a hand on the side of Charles's face, running his thumb over his cheek. Then Charles takes Erik in his mouth, and Erik can feel himself losing control of his body.

He can see Charles's face, his mouth forming a red circle around Erik's cock, face flushed, and eyes impossibly blue. Erik has one hand in Charles's hair, one hand gripping a couch cushion. He closes his eyes and arches his back, and what Charles is doing with his tongue right now means it's everything Erik has not to buck into his mouth as he comes. Charles swallows and holds him at bit longer, lightly running his tongue around him, before slowly releasing him.

He moves back up Erik's body to kiss him languidly, and Erik runs his hands over Charles's back. He thinks that his is probably the most perfect he'll ever feel, here, with Charles, and figures that _this_ is why he's here.


End file.
